This should probably be split into more chapters, but that means more work so...
:3
The first week wasn't too bad. The schedule was insane, but it was doable.
Going by ICWA time, her shift started at midnight, and ended at midnight. She wasn't allowed to sleep on the job—cruel and unusual torture if you asked her—and every arrival—which usually ended up with her stuck on her back due to the uniform—was followed by two to three hours of meditation. The rest of her 24-hour shift was filled with intense magic use that had her bone dead exhausted by the time she left.
Once home, she'd shower, crawl into bed and would hug the clothes Tom had worn to her face, and then she would sleep. She'd typically wake up between 4 and 6 PM British time. She would then proceed to spend time with her family until more exhaustion hit, and then would go sleep until it was time to get ready for work again.
Insanely exhausting, but extremely gratifying, nonetheless.
It was the second week when that pattern suddenly changed. Her work schedule hadn't changed—that wouldn't change until week three—but her home schedule had changed.
-|}(){|-
Hydra woke to her door opening.
She was immediately on high-alert because her family knew they would be murdered if they disturbed her during her precious sleep time.
So. Who the hell was in her room?
She didn't recognize the footsteps as they drew nearer to her bed. Her body became taut as she wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the handle of her wand under her pillow. Her back was to the door, so she couldn't peak to see if it was a family member.
Whoever it was sat on her bed, and she snapped—kind of like a snake that had just been stepped on.
She kicked them in the center of their back with her magic strengthening the blow. Whoever it was flew off of her bed. She rolled out of bed and straddled the figure. Her hair blocked her view of who it was, but her wand was pressed against their cheek and her left hand was wrapped around their stupid-thick neck. Well . . . his stupid-thick neck. Her fangs were at full length while she snarled at the intruder.
She wished she had venom only for the intimidation factor.
"Well, hello to you, too, princess."
Tom's voice snapped her out of her defensive mode. She tossed her hair back, and indeed, the man she straddled was Tom. She looked around her room, and everything was the same, bar the laughing duo of Abraxas and Hermes in the doorway.
Was she still sleeping?
Tom shifted underneath her. Her attention snapped back to him. His blue eyes were dark with some emotion she was too tired to try and figure out. He grabbed her hips and lifted her back before he settled her on his thighs so he could sit up.
"What are you doing here?" she asked through a yawn.
"I missed you," he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I may or may not have complained to Abraxas."
"Ahh—" She yawned again, cutting her words off. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent. "Well, I learned not to do that years ago. Like . . . when I was in the womb. Why didn't you?"
He laughed and hugged her close. He rested his head on top of hers. "Because complaining to him tends to benefit me."
She laughed and her cousin squawked. "What—I—I thought—I thought you cared about me for me and not my power?" he wailed.
Tom made a non-committal sound and buried his face in her neck. "I do. It's just . . . beneficial to me."
Abraxas squawked again.
"Come on," Hermes said. "Let's go. Hyde, dinner is in 20 minutes. Sorry for waking you."
She shook her head. "No, thank you for waking me."
She and Tom were left alone. Once her door was fully shut, Tom lifted his head and pressed a gentle, loving kiss to her lips. She returned his affections, but when he tried to deepen the kiss, she pulled away. "Not . . . not right now. I'm still waking up."
"Do you want me to leave while you finish waking up?" he asked softly. He ran his nose along the side of her face.
"No. I'll just—change in the bathroom."
He hummed softly and kissed her equally as soft, his lips just a whisper against hers. "I'll be waiting."
She kissed him and stood. "Okay." She bent down and kissed him again before she ran to her bathroom. She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. She heard Tom's laughter through the door before she called for Bixby.
"Yes, Mistress?" he asked when he arrived.
"I need something to wear."
He grinned, a certain light in his eyes. "Okay."
She felt fear.
While she waited, she brushed her teeth, relieved herself, and tied her hair up in a messy bun—she had tried to make it look nice but gave up halfway through when she yawned and stretched and had to start over. She washed her face, and when she looked up, a pile of clothes was on the counter next to the sink.
She dried her face and groaned.
"Bixby!" she shouted. "Bixby!" She wordlessly snarled at the lack of response from her elf.
Tom knocked on the door. "Is everything alright?" he asked softly.
"Yeah—Bixby just . . . picked my clothes for me."
"I take it they're not something you would have chosen?"
"Correct."
It was silent for a moment. "I'm kind of curious."
She wordlessly hissed at the door. "You're going to be the death of me," she whined.
"At least you'll know it was a pleasant death."
She flushed a deep red and gave a wordless hiss of defiance before she turned to the pile sitting innocently on the counter and sighed. "Fine."
She stripped out of her clothes. She pulled on the black underwear that matched the strapless black bra. She stepped into the high-waisted black pants and sighed. The pants were an impulse buy she made when she was sixteen and was rebelling against the 'perfect' Heiress Black image she had spent years cultivating. As such, they squeezed her thighs and butt in an obscene way before they flared at the knees into something resembling a skirt for her shins.
She glared at her reflection before she pulled on the shirt. It was a sheer, white peasant shirt that tied at her throat and had obscenely large sleeves that cinched at her wrists. It had roses embroidered along the collar, slit that went down to just above the start of her bra, and the wrists.
It was beautiful—it was more revealing than she wanted to wear, but the only way she was going to get to her closet was by wearing it.
"You have to promise not to laugh," she called out as she tucked the shirt into her pants. Doing so gave it that unique style that was found on old portraits.
She looked like some hooker pirate.
"I promise I won't laugh, princess."
She reluctantly opened the door and stared at Tom. His mouth dropped as his eyes scanned her form twice before he reached for her. He placed his hands on her hips and kissed her like he was a starving man.
She curled her arms around his neck to pull herself closer to him. He groaned softly before he grabbed her thighs and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her fingers in his silky-soft hair. Her back hit the wall, and she tore her lips away from his so she could breathe.
He mouthed at her throat while he harshly panted. "I love it," he rasped against her neck. "So much." He kissed her again.
Fire scorched through her as he tore apart the entire entity that was Hydra Rose Black and rebuilt it with him at the center.
She could only hope that she did the same to him.
"Mistress, Master Tom, dinner is ready."
She jerked away from Tom and hit her head on the wall at Bixby's voice. Had it really already been twenty minutes? She grabbed her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "Thanks, Bixby."
"Shall Bixby get Mistress a headache potion?"
"Yeah, yeah, thanks. Put it on the dinner table, please."
"Yes, Mistress."
Her elf popped away and she and Tom exchanged a look. They both erupted into laughter as Tom pulled her away from the wall and began to walk out of her room. "Is he always that . . . eloquent?"
"Unless he's really excited, yes." She rested her head in the crook of her neck for a moment. "I can walk."
"So, can I."
She laughed and wiggled in his arms until he relented and placed her on the ground. They walked side by side, silent. Their arms would occasionally brush, and it was the fourth time that they did that she hesitantly took his hand in hers.
Tom tensed for a moment before he laced their fingers together. "How's work?" he asked softly.
"It's good. Exhausting, but fun."
"What do you do?"
"Right now, it's mainly just magical training, getting me used to the uniform and building. I can't tell you how many games of hide and seek my trainers and I have had. Next week I start learning theory, which I'm really excited for."
"Hide and seek? Isn't that a little juvenile?"
"That's what I thought, but it's useful. We run around the building, which is larger than Hogwarts, believe it or not, and try and find each other by searching for their specific magical signature among thousands of others. The running is also good because it gets my speed up. I've never been a decent runner, so being forced to run around having spells launched at me is a really great motivator."
He laughed and placed a kiss on top of her head. "I can imagine."
They began down the stairs. "How about you?"
"What do you mean?"
"How's the independent research coming along?"
He sighed. "Not well. I don't have the funds to get the ingredients that I need. Not to mention the lack of time. I'm so busy with the Wizengamot recently that I don't have time to figure out the correct brewing times."
"What if . . . what if I gave you the funds?"
"What?" He stopped—just outside the dining room—and stared at her as if she had two heads. "Hydra, I can't ask that of you."
"Well, you're not asking. I'm offering."
He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. "Why? Why would you do that?"
"You're my Soulmate, Tom." She stroked his face. "That's a good enough reason to give you all of my money."
He sighed. "I can't, Hydra. I won't take your money. Especially for that reason."
She frowned and pulled away from him. Her eyes began to burn, and she wiggled her nose. "Okay." She entered the dining room and ignored Tom as he followed her. He sat next to her.
She discretely wiped a tear away—at least, she thought it was discretely. Tom grabbed her knee and squeezed while Hermes grabbed her hand.
"What happened?" her father demanded.
"Tom's trying to do research and can't afford—" She was forced to stop speaking when he covered her mouth.
"Hydra," he snarled. She licked his hand. He lifted a brow. "Do you honestly think that's going to stop me, princess?"
She pouted.
"What are you researching?" her mother asked.
Dinner appeared on the table and Tom released her with a pointed look. "I'm . . ." he sighed. "I'm trying to discover a cure for Dragon Pox. I read a book while I worked at Gringotts and it got me thinking. I've researched almost non-stop for it in my free time, and I think if I get the right ingredients and brewing times, I could do it—or at least get it to a point where a Healer could make it into one."
"So, it would be a potion?" her mother asked slowly. She took a sip of wine.
"Yes."
Hydra started to laugh. She waved Tom off when he asked her what was wrong.
"Tom, there's a charity called the Potter Potion Fund. It was started by my grandfather and the sole purpose of it is to help independent potioneers or researchers with their discoveries of new potions. Your project would qualify for quite a large grant."
What her mother didn't tell Tom was that the money came from the Potter Vaults. So, in a sense, if he accepted the grant, Hydra would be giving him money for his research via her mother—because she was going to make sure that the money actually came from her Vault.
"I—I what—how—" he stuttered until he fell into silence. "I . . . wouldn't be able to pay it back."
Hydra grabbed his right hand which rested on the table next to his untouched plate. He immediately tangled their fingers together and squeezed.
"That's the beauty of it. All you have to do is once your potion is complete and beginning to sell, you give 5% of the profits to the PPF until your grant has been returned."
He fell silent and slowly began to eat, his mind obviously occupied.
"Hyde," Hermes spoke five minutes later, breaking the silence at their end of the table. "Did you try that spell I taught you?"
"Your flipping spell? Yeah. Let's just say a few of the Warders are now refusing to go into the Curser division of the building and run whenever they see us."
Hermes laughed loudly. "You taught it to the others?"
"Of course, I did. After I cast it on Chadwick, he demanded to know it. After he cast it on Drago, he demanded to know it, along with Moon, Twinkle Toes, and Bright Eyes. I'm not aware if those three taught it to anyone else, but considering the Warders reactions, I assume that every Curser is able to cast the spell. Also, the Director wanted me to tell you good work on it."
"The Director knows about it?" he squeaked.
"Yeah. She likes it."
He squeaked again, which started James and Regulus up on teasing him, and that started her father and Uncle Remus on planning pranks, and that got Tom out of his head.
"No, if you do it that way, there's a chance the spell will miss—trigger spells have a very low rate of success if that's the way you'd go due to the set aim angle. There's also the factor you'd have to consider that the spell doesn't always work. If you use the potion variant and put it in food or drink, it'll be a guaranteed success."
The table fell silent at Tom's casual addition to pranking Lucius Malfoy.
"You—why didn't we think of that?" Uncle Remus exploded. "That's brilliant!"
Her father and uncle pulled Tom into a conversation on pranking people. The table was full of laughter and happy words as the night passed on. Dessert was brought out—something that wasn't usually planned—and she slowly grew more tired as time went on.
She leaned against Hermes and closed her eyes. He shoved her off of him. "Rude," she sniffed.
Just as she was about to excuse herself, Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. He continued to discuss various spells and potions with her father and Uncle Remus. His hand slowly began to run up and down her arm, and she leaned heavily against him and allowed her eyes to close.
She was jostled back into consciousness at the sound of a door opening. "Take your time," her father murmured. "Stay the night if you want."
"I wish I could. Nagini—my pet snake—has been sick lately. I need to give her some medicine and make sure she's alright."
"The offer is there if you want it," her father spoke again.
The world began to sway, and the door shut. She forced her eyes open. "Tom?" she murmured.
"You're okay," he whispered. "You fell asleep."
He gently placed her on her bed. She made no move to get up to change. "Kiss me before you go."
He stroked her cheek. "I will. But first you need to change."
She sighed. "Bixby?"
"Mistress called? Does Mistress need help changing again?"
She nodded her head. Her clothes were exchanged for a satin nightgown, the change seamless and modest. "Thanks, Bixby."
"Of course, Mistress."
She and Tom were left alone. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He pulled away, but she grabbed his hair and pulled him back. He smiled as he kissed her again, and then again. The kisses bled together until she thought herself a dying woman. She bit his lip and pulled it into her mouth to heal the cuts that her fangs made.
Tom hovered above her and pressed his body against hers. The kiss turned hungry, and it was only stopped by her yawning.
"Sleep, my darling princess."
"Will you stay until I'm asleep?"
He stroked her cheek and laid next to her. He wrapped his left arm around her stomach and pressed her back against his front. He began to run his fingers through her hair as soft singing filled the room.
The song was one she didn't recognize, but hearing his deep voice form the song from nothing gave her some kind of warm feeling in her chest. The song was obviously not a lullaby, but his smooth, perfect voice singing to her lulled her right to sleep, the words glistening behind her eyes and in her dreams.
. . . I dwell in the night,
But with you by my side,
I dwell in the light . . .
-|}(){|-
When she awoke, he was gone, but a small bouquet was left in his place. She smiled sadly as she pulled the flowers near to her.
Amaranthus—not to soon fade.
Aster—patience.
Astilbe—waiting for someone.
Celosia—affection.
Red rose—romantic love.
Her heart broke as she held the flowers to her chest.
My love will not soon fade. Please have patience and wait for me.
Three tears fell on the petals as she placed a stasis charms on the flowers and set them on her nightstand. She tried not to look at them while she dressed after her shower, but her eyes always seemed to be pulled back to the flowers that were now in a crystal vase that Hydra recognized to belong to Bixby.
When she returned from work and emerged from the shower, water had been added to the vase.
(if she cried herself to sleep with the vase cradled to her chest, no one needed to know)
When her schedule changed, Hydra began to regret her decision of becoming an International Curser.
Unlike her first schedule where she worked one day on, one day off, she worked 36 hours on and got twelve hours off.
Hardly anything changed at work. Instead of constant magic use, there was theory thrown in there—she fell in love with the library there. The only other change was the 8-hour nap she got between the 14-hour shifts of non-stop work. The only down time she ever got while working was when they were eating—which was often, due to the amount of magic they used.
At home, things changed drastically.
She'd get home at 5 PM and would throw herself into the shower. She'd then climb into bed to get as much sleep as she could—it was difficult with the flowers on her nightstand a constant reminder—before she'd have to go back to work.
It wasn't until the fifteenth—day six of the new schedule—that she saw her family again. The Malfoys were with them—along with Blaise—and they all sat on her bed. The interaction didn't last long. It was mainly just Hi, I love you. I'm going to sleep now. Can you get off my bed?
It was the next night home—the seventeenth—that they had done something similar, only instead of her family on her bed, it was Tom.
Tom had expected a quiet night in with Nagini. She had finally gotten over her illness and had been extremely clingy since—which was problematic considering all of the meetings Theodore kept summoning him to.
Really, the man was overreacting. The Blacks weren't against them. Sure, Lord Black called into question every single bill that Theodore proposed, but that didn't mean the Blacks were trying to ruin the Notts. It just meant that the bills were bad.
For Merlin's sake they were still invited to Granger-Black's Ball. Surely the invitation would have been revoked—like many others—if they had something against the Nott family.
It was only in the security of his mind that he admitted Theodore was right and the Blacks were trying to destroy them.
. . . I can't save you from the Black or Potter Estates . . .
He looked up from his book and ran a finger over his lips. He missed Hydra. The constant talk about the Blacks always made him think of her, which made his heart ache in ways that he didn't think were healthy.
"You're thinking of your Mate again," Nagini commented. She nudged at his hand until he placed it on her head and began to run his fingers along her skull.
"How could you tell?"
"Your magic goes sweet, and you get this look on your face." She tightened her hold on him. "When are you going to move her in and have hatchlings with her? I get lonely speaking to only you."
He laughed softly. "I wish it were that easy, Nagini, but it's not."
"Why not?" she demanded, a petulant tone to her hisses. "I want hatchlings."
Note to self: Get a male snake.
"Answer me, Tom. Why can't you have hatchlings with her?"
He sighed and tried to put it into words. "She's—she's from a very influential family. They're rich, have good standing, can offer protection . . . I have nothing, Nagini. I have you, my books, my mind. That's all I could give her. I can't protect her, and that makes me so angry."
"Why?"
"If I break the engagement with Historia—" He ignored the violent hiss from Nagini. His familiar hated his fiancée just as much as he did. "—there's a chance that the Notts would do something to hurt Hydra, and I'm not willing to put her at risk. Not to mention the fact that I can't break it—"
"Yes, you can. You are of Slytherin's Bloodline. You can do anything."
"Nagini, I was told that the ancestry was useless to me." He didn't know how it was useless considering who Salazar was, but he couldn't use it to break the engagement.
Nagini hissed. She raged—the phrases Tom could catch made no sense. Her hisses were interrupted by a knock on the door. "We'll finish this later, Nagini."
He wrestled her off of him and stalked to the door. He just wanted to be alone with his familiar. Maybe together they could figure out a way to break the engagement since he wasn't coming up with anything on his own.
He opened the door and paused. "Granger-Black. Heir Zabini. Vega. Abraxas." He nodded to his long-time friend and stepped aside to let the four in. "Why are you here?" He couldn't be bothered to keep up pretenses in his own home.
"It's Hydra."
His heart stopped. "Is she okay? Did she get hurt?" His heart continued to pound painfully in his chest until Abraxas laughed.
The man draped himself on the couch and happily let Nagini wrap around him. "Don't worry, she's fine," he said between coos at Nagini. "Dorian, one of her main trainers, is a close friend. He mentioned a new hire that entered a few weeks ago. Said she had so much magical potential he fears for anyone who gets on her bad side. Of course, wanting to be sure that he was talking about my darling cousin, I asked for her name. He couldn't give me her real name for reasons he didn't explain, but her code name is Snapdragon." He snorted. "It's such a perfect name for her."
The other three began to laugh. "Oh, I want to see how that was chosen to be her name," Vega giggled as she wiped tears from her eyes.
"She likely tried to kill someone on her first day," Zabini snickered. He stood next to Tom and leaned against the wall.
"Is she . . . typically snappish?" Tom asked with his head tilted to the side. He had seen her get upset after certain . . . topics were brought up, but he wouldn't say it was snappy—actually. Now that he thought about it . . . it was kind of snappy. But it was the defensive kind of snappy . . . so maybe it didn't count?
"Oh, yes," Granger-Black snorted. "You'll probably see it soon. Tonight, most likely."
Tom frowned. "What do you mean?"
The amusement seemed to leave the room all at once. "She works for a day and a half at a time now. She only has twelve hours between each shift. We saw her for a few minutes a couple nights ago before she fell asleep and—" Granger-Black stopped speaking. His eyes were wet.
"She's not doing well, Tom," Abraxas spoke.
Vega began to play with his hair. "We think that you might be able to help her."
"How?"
"Spend the night with her," Heir Zabini spoke, "sleeping only. We think the Bond has grown strong enough that time without you has begun to affect her magic."
Tom cursed softly. "I'm trying," he muttered, more to himself than his guests.
Granger-Black cleared his throat before he looked at his watch. "We don't have time to discuss this right now. She arrives home in five minutes, and my father wishes to speak with you before then."
He nodded his head and swallowed. "Abraxas, can you keep her . . . occupied? She's a little clingy right now."
"Yeah, 'course." He turned his full attention to Nagini and began to coo at her again.
Tom and the other three floo'd to Black Manor where they were greeted by Lord Black. "Tom, walk with me." He swallowed again and nodded his head. The walk to her bedroom seemed to last a lifetime. "I respect you, Tom," Lord Black started when they were on the second floor. "You have great ideas, you're smart, strong, obviously very inventive going by your position at Gringotts before you were forced to quit. Yes, I do my research, too. I wasn't going to let the man hurting my daughter get away with it."
Tom was shocked. "Did Hydra tell you that? About me quitting?"
"No. I found it out on my own."
He blinked, trying to wrap his head around what Lord Black was telling him. Hardly anyone cared enough about his background to ask since he had become engaged, and here Lord Black was with more information on his past than even Theodore had.
Without warning, his throat was grabbed, and he was pinned to the wall by the slightly shorter man. "You are killing my daughter," he snarled. "I don't know if it's because you're in love with that little whore or if it's because you get off on the stolen moments, but it has to stop, now. This will be the last time you will be welcome into my home to see my daughter unsupervised. No—you can't have both of them," Lord Black snarled and cut off Tom's attempt to redeem himself. "You need to decide which one you want, and it better be soon before Hermes challenges you to a duel."
Tom pushed Black away. "I want Hydra."
"Then what's stopping you?"
A door appeared in the wall behind Lord Black.
"The Notts," he admitted in a small voice that carried the hate of eternally damned souls.
Black laughed. "Do you not know who I am? Who my wife is? Do you not know the power that your own blood has?"
"It has absolutely no power."
Black sighed, as if someone had greatly disappointed him. It wasn't Tom's fault that his blood was useless to breaking the engagement.
"Nott told you that, didn't he? Don't listen to the fool, he's too good with words." Lord Black looked at him. "Tell me you got an Inheritance Test. Please."
Tom shook his head. "No, just . . . just a blood test. He said that was all that was needed for a half-blood like me. He said depending on what my blood showed depended on if I'd get an Inheritance Test. He decided it wasn't necessary, and well . . . I couldn't do much about it."
Black groaned and shook him lightly. "I take back what I said about you being smart. You're an idiot." Lord Black released him and ran his hands over his face. "One day, when you're free, Lord Nott is busy and likely won't contact you, and you can get away from the little whore, owl me. We'll get you an Inheritance Test. Don't worry, I'll pay. Think of it as an early birthday present. However, even without your Lordships, my Title and my wife's Title can stop the Notts from hurting you."
Tom scoffed. "They can do whatever the hell they want to me. It's Hydra I'm trying to protect once it's broken."
Lord Black's mouth fell open. "You . . . you love her, my Hydra . . . don't you?" At Tom's nod, his eyes began to water. "You know, it was easier to hate you when I thought you were in love with that abusive whore, but—"
"Never," Tom cut in. "Not once. I don't even care about her. To be honest . . . I think I fell in love with Hydra the moment I saw her the night of her Introduction Ball."
Lord Black nodded softly before he stepped to the side. "Go. She'll be getting out of the shower soon."
Tom inclined his head. "Thank you, Lord Black."
Tom took a deep breath before he opened the door. He was about to enter but stopped when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "Don't thank me just yet, son. We've just gotten started with saving her." With those cryptic words and a pat on the shoulder, the man left.
Tom shook his head and entered the room. He gently shut the door behind him and took in the sight of Hydra's room. Nothing about it had changed since he had last been there, but it still felt like something had changed. Perhaps it was the distinct lack of his Soulmate.
Perhaps it was the way the sentient magic in the room felt different.
No clothes were left for him to change into, but as he moved towards the bed, he noticed that one of the pillows had a bundle of fabric next to it—the clothes that he had worn, and Hydra had stolen from him. His eyes fell on a vase on the nightstand, and something warm and possessive curled in his chest at the sight of the flowers he had conjured. He sat on her bed to wait, his eyes still scanning every part of the room.
Hydra stepped out of the shower seven minutes later, wrapped in white towels. She paused in the doorway as steam billowed out around her. She smiled at him, the expression soft and warm.
"Tom," she greeted.
"Hydra." He stood and walked towards her. He rested his hands on damp shoulders before he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He rested his forehead against hers and breathed her in. He hadn't realized how much her absence had affected him until she was right there in front of him. An ache deep within his being—one he hadn't even realized was there—began to fade as warmth replaced it.
"Could you—maybe—turn around for a second—while I get dressed?" He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, one to the tip of her nose, and then one on her forehead before he did as she asked. "Thank you."
"Of course. How has work been?"
The towels hit the floor, and he dug his nails into his hands to keep from turning around as the closet door opened. "Good. Exhausting, but good. I no longer regret my decision, at least." She stumbled a few times as she dressed. It was torture to not turn around to check on her when she stumbled into the door. Especially when it became silent behind him.
Arms wrapped around him from behind.
He relaxed and placed his hands on hers. He loosened her hold and turned around in her arms to hold her close.
"How has the research been?"
He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her now-dry head. "I take it your mother told you I accepted the grant?" She hummed and held him tighter. "It's going well. I've gotten most of the ingredients that I need, and I've also been able to buy a few books to help corroborate my ideas. Now all I need is the time to put into it."
He sighed, and she pressed a kiss to his chest, right where his Soulmark was. "I'm sure everything—will work out—in the end," she said through multiple yawns.
Tom pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "How do you have so much faith in me?"
"Because you're you," she answered simply, as if that was all she needed to know.
She pulled away from him and went to her dressing table and began to slowly brush her hair. Her movements were slow and sloppy, and she winced multiple times. Tom started towards her, and as he did so, he took a moment to admire the new lean lines of muscle that coiled on her arms and in her back as she brushed her hair. She had the same muscles along her legs, and he was sure she was thinner—which he found to be a bit alarming since she had already been so small.
His eyes lingered on her shoulder blades as they moved, and the way her Soulmark writhed with them. His heart sped up just a bit. He crouched behind her and pressed kisses along her back and up her neck until he stood straight. His lips tingled from kissing her Soulmark, and her movements had completely stopped. He placed hand on her neck and felt her pulse flutter against his palm.
He took the brush from her limp hand and kissed her palm and inner wrist before he placed it back on her lap. He began to brush her hair as gently as he could. Whenever he came upon a particularly nasty tangle, he'd wrap his magic around it and above it before he'd run the brush over it and it would disappear completely. He was tempted to do it with every tangle and just force her hair smooth and be done with the task, but his love seemed to be enjoying it, so he kept at it.
When he finished brushing her hair, he put the silver antiqued brush on the table and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He expected her to start braiding her hair so they could go to bed, but she was still. He frowned and looked in the mirror. He laughed softly when he saw her eyes closed and breathing evenly.
She had fallen asleep.
He kissed her temple a few times and hoped she wouldn't be too upset with him for not knowing how to braid hair—note to self: learn how to braid hair. He gently lifted her off of the chair and into his arms. He stumbled slightly because instead of her being lighter—like her thinner form suggested—she was heavier.
Muscle weighs more, dummy.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and walked towards the bed. She shifted in his arms. "Tom?" she murmured.
"Shh, princess. I'm here."
He flicked a finger at her bed and the covers pulled back. He laid her in bed and pulled the thick blanket over her and grabbed his clothes from next to her pillow and stood. She blindly reached for something. "Stay, please. Don't leave me again."
He sat down next to her, and her hand latched onto his arm. "I'm getting changed and then I'll be back."
Her grip loosened as she forced her eyes open. They closed a second later. "Prom'se?" she slurred. Her hand fell to the bed.
"I promise, princess." He kissed her gently before he stood and began to strip. He had been planning to go behind the changing screen, but she was asleep. Even if she wasn't asleep, he didn't mind if she saw him in his underwear. For one they were Soulmates—someone he'd wait eternity for—and another he couldn't bear to be away from her.
Once changed, he slid into bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She nuzzled her face into his chest. His Soulmark began to pleasantly burn when her nose brushed against it for a moment. He kissed her head softly multiple times. She smiled and settled down. Her breathing quickly evened out, and she completely relaxed.
He didn't know how long he stared at her while he ran his fingers through her hair or along her skin. He wasn't sure if it was a few minutes or a few hours. All he knew is that holding her in his arms is all he wanted from that moment on.
He would do everything and anything in his power to get this—to get Hydra.
Even if that meant marrying Historia and killing her shortly after.
-|}(){|-
When Hydra woke up to her external alarm, she was insanely comfortable—more comfortable than she should be considering how sore she was from work. She burrowed further into Tom's embrace and started to fall back asleep.
If they wanted her at work that badly, they could come get her.
"No, no, no," Tom sleepily muttered. "Get up. You need to go to work."
She pouted. "But—warm," she grumbled.
He laughed softly—the sound was far too attractive for this hour in the morning. "I know, darling, trust me, I know. But, despite that, you have to go to work, and I have to go get yelled at by Nagini."
She groaned before she sat up. He ran his hand along her back. She slumped before she decided to try and convince him to let her stay. She straddled his bare stomach and placed her hands on her pecks, her right immediately began to ache. The hemline of her nightgown rode up and exposed the matching silk shorts she wore underneath the revealing garment.
"Can I meet her some time?"
"We'd both love that. Her especially. Most days are spent with her asking when she can meet you."
His eyes glowed with something possessive as he put his hands on her thighs and squeezed gently. The pain in her hand grew too much to bear, so she began to run her hands along his torso—which she wasn't ashamed to admit was extremely toned (if she focused on his abs, then no one could blame her).
He moved his grip to her hips where he pushed her back enough so he could sit up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to kiss up his throat and to his ear. "You're clingy in the morning, aren't you?" he rasped. His hands shook where they held her.
She smiled and kissed his chin before she peppered kisses along his jaw, back to his ear. His breath caught when she kissed the skin behind it. "I've missed you," she murmured into his ear before she nibbled on the lobe. He shuttered beneath her and pulled her flush against him. "I don't want to leave you again."
"Oh, princess," he groaned. He tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of her head and tilted her head back until her throat was completely borne before him. He pressed a kiss to her jugular. "I never want to leave you again."
"Do you mean that?"
He released her hair and kissed her softly. His tongue did sinful things to her fangs—which apparently made her lose complete control of them when he did that—before he pulled away. "With every fiber of my being."
She pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply. She pulled away at a knock on the door. "Hydra? Can I come in?"
She pressed her forehead against Tom's momentarily before she jumped off of him and onto the floor. "Yeah, dad. Come in." Her father entered, his face tired. "Did you get any sleep?"
Tom reached for her and grabbed her hand.
"No. I . . . had a lot on my mind." His eyes flickered to Tom and where they held hands. "Don't you need to be getting dressed? It's 4:40."
She grumbled, "I was hoping to stay home, but you two are relentless."
The two laughed and Tom gently pushed her towards her closet. She grabbed one of her uniforms from her closet and stepped behind her changing screen. Thankfully, even with Tom there, she got dressed just fine. The first three shifts she had she was late because of the Uniform. It was now a source of pride for her to get dressed so easily.
She walked out from behind the screen and laughed at the offended sound Tom made from where he had dressed in the clothes he had been wearing the night before. "Don't take it too personally, darling," she started as she walked over to where her boots had been kicked off. "I've been wearing these uniforms almost every day for the last three weeks in a very magic-saturated environment. Along with that, each shift starts with a few hours of meditation to help get used to the influx of magic that I'm sensing."
She sat on the trunk that sat at the end of her bed and pulled on one boot and blinked a couple times at the rush of magic. "Can I take that as a compliment?"
Her father laughed and patted his shoulder as she answered. "Yes, you can. But don't let your ego get inflated."
Her father laughed again and knelt in front of her and helped her with the other boot—something he had done three times prior. "Why are you here?" she asked softly.
"I just wanted to tell you to have a good day and that I'll see you tomorrow."
"Hopefully."
"What do you mean?"
"I have a placement test to see where I'm at, and it takes a long time from what I'm told."
He frowned softly. "Well then, I'll see you when I see you. You're going to be there for Hermes' Ball on Friday, right?"
"Yeah. I asked the Director to see if there was any way to line my schedule up so I could attend, so I'll be there."
"Good."
She hugged her father. "Tell the others that I love them."
He assured her that she would before he kissed the top of her head and left.
Tom replaced her father, only he forced himself between her knees. He pressed a firm kiss to her lips before he pulled away and held her face in his hands. "I love you." He looked straight into her eyes. Her mouth fell open as she blinked. "Don't—don't lie to me. Don't give me hope. I don't expect you to say it back. I know you've put a wall up around your heart to keep yourself from getting hurt. I just—I need you to know that I love you."
Her heart ached at the reminder that he wasn't hers. But . . . she couldn't lie to him. She kissed him softly. "I don't know what I feel for you," she said as she rested her forehead against his. "But . . . I do know that I care about you. I know that if I were to somehow lose you . . . it would kill me. I don't know if what I feel for you is some mutated form of friendship, or if it's heading in the direction of love, but I do know that I care for you."
Against everything in my being telling me to not care for you, I do.
He breathed a sigh of relief before he kissed her softly. "Thank you," he whispered, almost to himself. He kissed her again. And again, and again. He kissed her as if he would lose her any moment until her Portkey heated up, letting her know she had three minutes to get to work.
"I have to go," she whispered against him. Their mouths were covered in blood. She pulled his lip down and licked the cuts on the pink flesh from his half-grown fangs. "You should work on that," she murmured.
He hummed before he cast a cleansing spell on her mouth and made her look work appropriate before he gave her a wicked smile that made it hard to breathe. He draped her jacket over her shoulders and kissed her hands after she shrugged it on.
"Have a good day, darling."
She kissed him once more before she activated her Portkey. She stumbled upon arrival and ignored the familiar laughter.
"You're later than usual," Dorian commented as he draped an arm over her shoulders and led her towards the meditation room.
She glanced at the watch. "I'm still here one minute early, Drago." The two of them tended to speak in Parseltongue with one another because they rarely had the opportunity to do so and wanted the practice.
"You see, normally you're two minutes early, Snappy." She shoved him, but the Dragonkin still leaned over and sniffed her. "Is that human male I smell on you? Oh, do tell, Little Dragon."
Instead of answering him with words, she blasted him to the other side of the room. "Like hell I'll tell you anything."
He laughed and pushed himself up. "One day you will, Snapdragon. One day."
By breakfast time, four hours later, there were jokes and rumors among the Cursers that the Snapdragon had Snapped again. She didn't mind, especially when Warders would squeak and turn in the other direction and give her quite the laugh.
By snack time, Chadwick looked at her with understanding and held her at the end of her shift while she cried herself to sleep.
(if her trainers were a bit harder on her to keep her distracted, she didn't mind)